Going back again
by Tsuris
Summary: Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass had the potential to be soul-bonded, but Fate weaved her threads, and the happy-ever-after was dissolved. This is a story of Harry going back in time, going against Fate or anyone for that matter, to be with his love. And he won't be afraid to use force to do so. Minor bashing of Weasleys/Dumbledore.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hi all, this is my first fan-fiction so, yes. I have always been a fan of the Harry and Daphne ships, so those who don't like that ship can well, ship off this page. (Waggles eyebrows). Right right, stop being late Tsuris. Anyway, I just to tell you guys that reviews, especially constructive ones are highly appreciated, this is because reviews will allow me to write(or is it type?) better! So, let us go into the story. Shall we?

Chapter 1: Prologue

**25 December 1994 (Yule Ball, Hogwarts Courtyard):**

"I'm truly sorry Harry, I can't go out with you."

"Am I so pathetic? So undesirable?" Harry remarked. "Have you been leading me on? From our first year?"

"Harry…"

"No, stop. Please. Can you give me a why? At least? For me," as Harry looked into the eyes of his only love, trying to pick out untruths.

"I'm sor-…"

"No, don't apologise, I want you to be happy. So I guess, this is goodbye." Harry stalked away, heartbroken. Not noticing his only love, with tears running down her cheek, whisper…

"I'm sorry Harry, we are never meant to be…"

**5****th**** May 1998, Aftermath, Room of Requirement:**

"Why? Why not give me another chance?! Voldemort is gone!" Harry begged, not noticing the flinch when Voldemort was mentioned.

"It changes nothing Harry…"

"But why then? For four years you kept me from pursuing you… Just give me the reason behind this… Please… I beg of you"

"I'm betrothed, Harry…"

"To whom?"

"Theodore Nott."

"Damn your pure-blood customs… Please, I know you don't want this, we can get of this country… anything! Please… Just come with me…"

"I can't, please don't make it difficult for me! Give it up Harry! You can't have everything!"

"Pleas-"

***SLAP***

Harry lifted his hand to the stinging mark on his cheek. He felt wetness there. He was crying. He turned and not looking back, whispered,

"Is there no happy-ever-after? For me?"

"No…Not for us." the girl, dressed in black robes, with green and silver markings choked out.

**4****th**** September 2012, Nott Manor, Courtyard:**

Auror Captain, Harry James Potter was grieving.

He received a Patronus, saying that the Dark Mark has been fired above Nott Manor. He had hoped he had got there in time, but he only found the broken body if the woman he still loved. Broken, but breathing. Trembling with rage, he went in alone, room after room of Pure-Blood bigots who still hold to the ideas of Voldemort, were slaughtered. Hearing them taunt about hurting others, something in Harry snapped.

There was no Light or Black magic. There was only intent. Even with the unforgivable. Harry's intention, in light of his grief, was to hurt, to kill. To him, there are no innocents within the house. Those that fought against him, died.

Those that threw down their wands, and begged for mercy, was executed with the killing curse.

Harry Potter, at the point in time, was their sole, judge, jury and executioner. He found them to be guilty, and to him, the fitting punishment was death.

He walked out of the manor, eyes full of satisfaction, and upon falling upon his love, his other half, even if it's was not meant to be…

His eyes filled up with love. Simmering with tears at the hurt that had befall on the woman lying in front of him. He gathered the broken body of his soul-mate, into his arms, his tears fell on the woman's face. Prompting her to wake up one last time.

"Hi Harry… Fancy meeting you here…" the woman choked out.

"Still with the jokes eh? Daphne?" Harry tried to laugh, but it came as a wet sob. At the amount of life in his soul-mate, even when she was approaching death.

"You knew didn't you, even before the Ministry informed us possibility of our soul-bond" Daphne asked.

"Yes, I did"

"And yet, you didn't do anything?" Her tone was questioning.

"I wanted you to be happy." Harry replied simply.

"And I'm glad for that… Harry… love. I feel cold Harry, I know my time is up, please do this for me, go… and live your own life… there is always a choice… Even if in this life, I can't be with you… I hope…. In the next life… I can be your wife." Daphne's hand, reach up and cupped Harry's cheek, one last time. Wiping off his tears. Moving her hand to his chest, right over his heart, "Don't cry love, don't cry, I will always… be with you, here."

With that, Daphne dropped her hand, looked deep into Harry emerald orbs, so fraught with grieve and pain, whispered with her last breath "I love you, eternally."

The light behind her eyes, gradually faded.

A sound, of grief, so wretchedly sad, ripped through the cold wind.

Harry could only rock back and forth, holding his lover, his everything, in his arms and cry.

He swore on his life that people, who treated life, as mere pieces would pay, for far too long he watched as wizards wrought harm across the board, and yet because they were Pure-blooded, were let off with a slap on the wrist.

Now they took from him, the one thing he had left, the one thing, he held most dear.

His eyes started growing with power, tendrils of lightning sparked from his body.

They would all pay.

**Unknown date, unknown location.**

For 10 years Harry had carried out with his mission. For 10 years, deaths started appearing, mostly people would have been charged before, and strangely let off lightly.

Carved on each and every single body, was a message. "Change".

And so the magical world changed, people in fear, turned to doing good deeds to avoid the wrath of the mysterious killer.

Harry felt his work was done. But he was never more alone. He had nothing to live for, and so he delved into books, obscure magical theory, and one day, found a way, to go back into the past, by transfer his soul, and therefore his core and memories and knowledge back into the past.

He had a chance to be with Daphne once more, and by the gods, Harry was going to take the chance, the current timeline be damned.

Over the course of the next year, he acquired the ingredients needed, and drew the various runes to create the pathway.

Now, he knelt, in the exact centre of the runic circle, putting his second wand on the floor, he drew his holly wand, and filled his being with self-loathing. His failure to protect and keep his love from harm. It was enough to make him hate himself. He look at a portrait, across the room of him and Daphne, in happier times, at her wedding. He had felt happy for her even then. One last look for him.

He pointed the wand at his heart, thinking that he will join her, whether the ritual succeeds or fails, there is no moot point here to him.

He said to the portrait, "I don't have any choice. Not really."

He whispered two words and with a flash of green, the life of Harry James Potter, the Man-Who-Conquered was extinguished forever.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hello again! Right, with this new chapter, I would like to introduce my new Beta, Miyuria! Thanks to him, the grammar and general flow of the story is much smoother. So, thanks Miyuria! Sometimes, if I and Miyuria have the time, we will most likely post a chapter one to three days earlier, but always no later than the date written on my profile. Enjoy, leave a review or two if you have time, its' always appreciated.

'Thoughts'

"Speech"

**A meeting with Fate and Death**

**Unknown location, Unknown Time**

Harry woke to a scene of pure white. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that he was back at King Cross Station. But this not the real King Cross Station. This was limbo; the stage before the "Next-Great-Adventure".

He looked down and scoffed at the fact that he was nude. With barely a thought, a blue silk robe appeared on the nondescript bench beside him. He wore it with a soft sigh, feeling the softness of the silk on his skin.

With that, he sat down on the bench to wait for the train that would take him to the world beyond.

Minutes felt like hours as Harry waited, but nothing happened. The train did not come. He thought hard for an explanation. Had the ritual had gone wrong? Was a rune wrongly drawn? Had he miscalculated? Perhaps he missed a step?

'No use thinking about it...I failed, simple as that. I'm so sorry Daph...but at least I can join you in death.'

In the distance, Harry heard the clearing of throats. As he looked up, he saw two figures standing in the light. The male figure was dressed in a jet black robe, with a gaunt, skeletal face and eyes as hollow as the void. The female wore a long-flowing golden gown, with a face that can be considered to be at the very peak of feminine beauty.

"Harry James Potter…" rasped a voice that reeked of death and decay, with a conviction that everything will end. A chill went down Harry's spine when his name was mentioned. The sheer intensity of the voice enveloped him, filling him with a sense of dread. This was the first time that Harry, who is widely regarded as the strongest mage that was in the Wizarding world, had known fear, in a very long time.

"Who...are you?" asked a stoic Harry, trying his best to keep a straight face. He did not want to give away the fact that he was afraid.

"You know who I am…you are my 'Master' after all…" the being said with a chuckle.

"Death…" whispered Harry.

"Yes, DEATH. The end of all things. Let us continue this conversation in a more… homely location shall we?" stated Death. "If you would sister?"

"Of course…" replied the woman.

Harry found himself at a place which was achingly familiar. His old home. Godric Hallows. He took a seat by the fireplace, after Death gestured for him to sit down.

"Well, well. Harry James Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived, The Man-Who-Conquered, The Protector of Peace and at the very end… The Man-Who-Was-Betrayed," stated Death. "You have done something extremely foolish Harry. You should have known that your ritual had no chance of succeeding. One cannot tamper with the Fates so."

"So what would you have me do?! Live a life of emptiness? My life was a shell of what could have been. Ginny Potter nee Weasley, my so-called wife, drugged me with Amortentia. One would expect her to be happy with the Man-Who-Conquered, but no...she wasn't even faithful to me. And that is the least of the transgressions. My best mate, the one person whom I thought would stick with me throughout, was the reason behind my loss of Daphne! The list goes on, and not even Albus Dumbledore, Leader-Of-The-Light is free of responsibility."

At this point, the woman spoke up, her voice rang like bells on a clear day, "For what it is worth, I am sorry. The threads of Fate are not my creation. Despite what you may think, I merely govern it, not dictate it. You were supposed to live a full life with your other half, free of manipulation. But it all changed when humans, due to their greedy nature, sought power and control over the life of others. You were just another victim of this wretched world. But you grew strong. You became Gray, a new side in a battle of Black and White."

"I already knew I was Gray, Fate. I lived my life beyond expectations, playing my part to haul the Wizarding World into the modern era, where blood does not matter. I would like to believe I succeeded," said Harry.

"And you did Harry. The next few generations would curse your name, for you were merciless. But you have secured their future. And now, here we are Harry, at a crossroads. As Fate would have it, you cannot die yet. It is not your time. Your possession of the Hallows ensured that," Death mused.

"But we offer you a new chance, where you can start anew. A world similar to your own, but with minor differences. I advocate balance; where there was darkness and hardships in your life, there will be happiness in your next." Fate stated. "You will have a new life filled with opportunities, free of manipulations by anyone. The way you choose to live it, is your own choice. And you will, of course, retain your skills and memories, a boon from me."

"You will be born three years earlier, same as your other half. But you will not be The Protector of Peace. The one who will have your titles would be one Ronald Weasley. In this new realm, he will be the chosen one, protected by a shield crafted by myself. You will no longer be at the top of Wizarding world. What will happen in this alternate world, even I cannot predict. This is the cost of a chance at a new life."

"Choose now, dear child. Our time grows short. If you do not choose, in a few moments, you will return to your former body, with neither mark nor memory of the ritual." Fate said.

Death added "The Hallows will still be in your possession. But I cannot interfere with your life anymore. Thrice I have acted on my whims to aid thee, and thrice you have accepted. Let this new life be the last boon I grant thee."

"What say you Harry James Potter! Do you accept these terms?" the two voices said in unison

Harry weighed the pros and cons. He had led a hard life, fraught with difficulties. But now he can choose to have a fresh start. His parents would be alive, and he would have Daphne. He would do anything to have her back.

"I accept. So shall it be."

"And so it shall be done."

Harry expected agonising pain, but instead, he was blinded by the sealing light of the promise, between him and Fate and Death.

What happened next was unprecedented, Harry experienced the feeling of being squeezed and pushed along a tube.

And definitely not the next few words…

"PUSH, Lily! I can see his head! PUSH!"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **So, hello once more! Well, I noticed I forgot to put the disclaimer for the previous few chapters. So…

**Disclaimer: **All Characters, Places, Magical Names, Canon-Spells, I.E the entire world in this story, belongs to J.K Rowling. Only the Plot, any Original Characters, and any non-canon spells belongs to me.

**A/N 2: **Now that, that is over with, just want to tell you guys that Chapter 4 will probably arrive slower, since both I and Miyuria have to focus on our up-coming examinations. I have an idea of how I want this story to go already, so I won't be abandoning this story! So fret not! As always Special thanks to Miyuria for Beta-ing, and of course, any reviews dropped on my story will be most appreciated! Ta-Ta!

* * *

**Rebirth and Plots**

**St. Mungos Maternity Ward, 30 July 1997, 2330.**

James Potter had never felt such excitement and fear before. Excitement, because his first child was about to be born, and fear, because of the cussing and threats from his wife, Lily Marie Potter née Evans.

"James Charlus Potter! Never are you touching me again! I will castrate you, and set your bits on fire!"

James winced at his wife's tone and threats. His Lily-flower was always so creative with threats. "Now dear, the pain will pass. Here! Grab my hand…"

"Damn right I will. Sirius, you mangy mutt, I hear you snickering! Get out of here before I make you!" Lily threatened. Frantic footsteps could be heard rapidly retreating from the maternity wards. With it, a voice can barely be heard,

"Sorry Prongs, duty calls! Good luck, and all that. See you later!"

"Damned traitor, brought him here to give me support, and he runs away," muttered James under his breath.

"What did you say James?" asked Lily sweetly.

"Erm….I mean, the Mid-Wife is coming soon." Gulped James. When Lily starts to speak in that tone, it was really best not to provoke her any further. James had learned it the hard way. "Here she is!"

"Alright Lady Potter, it looks dilated enough for you to start pushing…"

* * *

**4 hours later…**

James was shaking with fear. Lily was making so many threats per minute, that he honestly starting fearing losing his bits. Not to mentioned his broken hand. But who cares about his hand, when it was his bits that were in danger!

But at that point, he never felt a stronger love for his wife. Here she was, enduring unfathomable pain, to bring HIS child into his world. She was his Wife. His Life. His Everything.

However, he was still worried about his bits.

"Milady, I need you to push again!" shouted the Mid-Wife over Lily's constant stream of curses that can make a sailor blush.

"Argh. I can't do it…" cried Lily, finally breaking down. The pain was too much for her. Even with James beside her.

In the moment, James saw a mop of dark hair, emerging from between Lily's legs. "PUSH Lily! I can see his head! PUSH!"

Lily, looked into her husband eyes, filled with love and longing. And pain, at her suffering. She would not let James down. She braced herself, took a deep breath, and pushed with all her worth, letting out an anguished cry at the same time.

James felt his heart break at Lily's cry. But the next sound, filled him with happiness and joy unknown to him.

A startling cry could be heard throughout the room. His child, was born!

He turned towards his Lily, and kissed her on her brows. Wrapping her arms around her, content to hold her close. He could not express the amount of adoration he had for his wife, for this precious gift, his child. No words, no actions can express his thanks. So, he just laid his head on top of Lily's shoulder, hoping that she knows, how much the moment means to him.

"My Lord and Lady Potter, it is a boy!" the Mid-Wife announced. Turning towards her aid, "5.6 kilograms, date of birth 31 July 1977. Time, exactly 3a.m."

With that, she passed the new-born back to the Potters. James and Lily eyes were filled with love and adoration at the bundle in Lily's arms. Their love, made real.

Lily cooed softly at her baby, hoping to calm him down. "What shall we name him, Lily?" James whispered, unable to speak at a louder volume, the ordeal having taken a lot out of him.

"Harry, Harry James Potter," replied Lily.

* * *

Harry was feeling highly uncomfortable. What adult would like to re-experience birth? He cursed Death and Fate to the high heavens for their sense of humour. With a final squeeze he sprang free from his mother's body, and into a pair of waiting hands.

"… It's a boy! 5.6 kilograms, date of birth, 31 July 1977. Time, exactly 3.00am," stated a voice filled with relief. Harry scoffed inwardly at the time of his birth, it was just like Death to make his mark known. After all, it is the hour of twilight, three in the morning, when a man's soul is at his most vulnerable, Death would collect his due.

With that, he was spun around to face his parents. He could not help, but feel something clench at his heart. He could see how his features have taken after them.

A scrape of conversation, so long ago, comes to fore, "You look so much like your father, but you have your mother eyes."

Lily Potter, his mother, with a mane of hair that was shaded almost auburn, the distinctive almond shaped, emerald eyes. They shone with love and adoration at him. James Potter, his father. The one that he was compared to frequently, strong chiselled jaw, a hint of stubbles, warm brown hazel eyes and of course, the untameable Potter mop of hair.

He can feel tears come to his eyes, at the beautiful, living visage of his parents. Here, with him. For the first time, since he had saw Daphne lowered into the ground. He cried. He did not notice that he was transferred into his mother's arms.

Feminine arms, with a scent so familiar, held onto him. An image, flashed in his mind. An image of life, before Voldemort came to Godric Hallows on that accursed night, in a different world, so very long ago. A warm voice cooed at him, stopping his cries. He looked into two pairs of eyes, one hazel brown, and one, emerald green, shining with unshed tears.

The angelic voice of his mother, eventually lulled him to sleep.

* * *

**St. Mungos, Recovery Ward for Mothers, Potter's Ward. 2****nd**** August 1977**

"Padfoot, we want you to be Harry's godfather," enthused James. Lily looked on with a most forlorn expression, knowing that with this two, Harry will likely become a little terror.

"Really? But I could not… I mean, I haven't an inkling on how to bring up a child…" Sirius said.

"Nonsense, just dote on him, and TEACH him all you know…" James stated, wagging his eyebrows. After all if he, James, himself were to teach Harry all that he knew, he would end up on the couch for the rest of his life.

"Merlin's balls… I assure you, Prongs, I will TEACH him all that I know…" Sirius replied with a most serious expression.

Lily just face-palmed. She was in for it now.

Sirius was deliriously happy. He was, as of now, the Godfather, or should it be, Dog Father of Prongslet! Prongslet is a beautiful child in his opinion, he has James soon-to-be good looks, and his mother's alluring eyes. Now, all that he needs, is the right attitude. Yes. Sirius is going be a great Dog Father to Harry. Teaching him, guiding him, moulding him into a Mini-James, but of course, make him more popular to the ladies, like himself.

Yes, his god-child, would be the dream to every girl. And he, Sirius, the great Pad-Foot, shall do his best, in educating Prongslet, into a womanising, prank-loving and mostly innocent little child. He would swear upon his Marauder's honour! Of course, this must be achieved without Lily knowing. He wouldn't want his bits to be hexed off would he?

* * *

**Potter Manor, 15****th**** August 1977, 3.45pm.**

"Charlus! What are you doing! Stop your shenanigans, you stupid Man-Child! 56 years old and you still act like an immature fool!" a voice screeched at the black-haired man. "Lily and James will be home soon! With our grand-child if I might add!"

"Yes dear." Charlus Potter, father of James Potter, was suitably chastised, one should never go against his wife. So he sat down on the couch in the living room, waiting for his wife to be ready.

The sharp click-clack of heels could be heard on the stairs, and the vision that approached, was a woman most beautiful. With flowing black hair, high cheek bones, sharp nose, and rose-red lips, and striking violet eyes, the woman was the very picture of an aristocrat. Her haughty expression only tempered by the warmth in her eyes. This woman, was Dorea Andromeda Potter née Black.

It was moments like this that reminded Charlus, of how lucky he was to have her in his life. Their union, had been arranged, as per pure-blood customs, but they grew to love each other. Dorea Potter, his wife, was his anchor, and his confidant. His partner in life.

The previous Potter Lord, Charlus Tiberius Potter had always been known as a ferocious man who stood up for his ideas. With a sharp wit, and a quicker wand hand, he had built upon the prestige of the Potter name.

The Wizegamot, still quakes whenever he makes an appearance. He had been known for his hot temper. The judicial system as a whole breathed a sigh of relief, when Charlus had decided to abdicate his seat to James Potter.

Charlus had done so, not because he was tired, but because he wanted to spend more time with his family. It was moments like this, when he looked upon his wife's visage, that he knew he made the right choice of abdication.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and greeted his wife, "So, what's up?"

SMACK.

And promptly got hit on the back of his head. Dorea huffed, though it was plain to see, she was trying to stifle a grin.

"Excited are we? Dorea?" asked Charlus.

"Of course. This is our grand-child we are talking about! Are you not excited?" replied Dorea.

"Nope."

SMACK.

Charlus absently rubbed the back of his head. He do love annoying his wife, though he truly was excited at the prospect of welcoming the next generation of Potters. To him, there is nothing more important than family.

He looked towards the Potter Coat-of-Arms and peered at the words inscribed on it.

'Familiae Semper Prius,' family always first.

"Family first, always and always", muttered Charlus under his breath, unnoticed by Dorea.

With that, both newly christened grandparents look expectantly at the fireplace.

* * *

**Potter Manor, 15****th**** August 1977, 4.00p.m.**

The fire-place abruptly turned green, and with a whoosh, James was deposited on the floor. Chuckles could be heard from the couch.

"Still not used to Flooing, I see." said Charlus, still chuckling.

"Yeah, not sure why…. Mum! Dad! What brings you here today?" whelped James, as he scrambled up from the floor.

"Well, seeing as it is the Potter Manor, and we live here…." mused Dorea.

"Still haven't lost your touch Mum! As sarcastic as always! And before you ask, Lily will be here shortly." Replied James. With that, a second whoosh sounded from the still-green flames, and Lily Potter walked out holding Harry, looking quite amused.

"Home Sweet Home! Mum, Dad! How have you been?" With that, the family of Potters degenerated into a buzz of conversation. One that inevitably woke up Harry. The Potter's were startled out of their pleasantries, as both Dorea and Lily looked accusingly at the Potter men.

"We didn't do anything! We swear!" stated both men at the same time.

"How about you bring Harry over to the nursery, Lily, and we will adjourn to the Kitchen?" asked Charlus.

* * *

**Potter Manor, Kitchen, 15****th**** August 1977, 4.30pm.**

"How goes the war, Dad?" asked James.

"Bad to worse, James. More and more people are disappearing. Everyone are getting more nervous. Voldemort, is winning his war of terror." Replied Charlus. "James, I implore you to listen to your Mum and me. We need to move overseas! This war is not our problem!"

"How can you say that, Dad? What about the rest of the population? Are we to leave them to die?" James shot back hotly.

"This is not our war! James! The Potters were always neutral! And besides, have you forgotten our family creed?" reasoned Charlus. Both Lily and Dorea, looked on with a stony expression, not betraying any emotions.

"Yes…but…"

"Can you watch your family be murdered then? What about your son? Make no mistake James! Voldemort will hunt us down! Sometimes, James, things have to be sacrificed. Moreover, you are the head of our family now. I beg you to consider this!" pressed Charlus, not letting James get a word in edgewise.

"Yes…father." James' shoulders slumped. He knew he was defeated. He could not condemn his son to growing up in the midst of a war, to living a life filled with fear. Both ladies, let out a sigh of relief at this, the hardest part was over.

* * *

Over the next few days, the Potter household was in an up-roar. Letters to send, instructions to be given, contacts to be made. James had managed to persuade Sirius and Remus along with Lily's parents to move overseas, however, one Albus Dumbledore wished for the Potters to remain in Wizarding Britain and throw their support behind the Light.

Dumbledore knew the Potters were an Old, Neutral Pureblood Family. They have the political clout to severely hamper the progress of the darker families within the Wizegamot, not to mention that the Potter family were extremely talented at magic. Most if not all of the Potter's could qualify as Unspeakables. So it was decided, Dumbledore had to persuade the Potters to stay in Britain by any means necessary. It was for the "Greater Good" of Britain.

He used his considerable political powers to put restrains on the Potters. Taking away their Port-Keys privileges, putting them under surveillance and so on. But the Potters had enough powers by ancient pureblood laws to maintain their progress towards moving overseas.

Each move made by Dumbledore, was met with an exact counter measure, likely the courtesy of Charlus Potter.

So Dumbledore resorted to using their family friends. He knew both Sirius and Remus could not be persuaded. That left little Peter. Hence, he informed Peter to keep track of the movements of the Potters, and if possible to steal away, young Harry. It hurts his conscience to have to resort to such a method to gain a leverage over the Potters. But, what was one small act of evil, to keep in check another that was much larger in scope, he thought.

But Peter was not without an ulterior motive for accepting the job made by Dumbledore. You see, Peter has always been jealous of James, Sirius and even Remus. He has always been the one forgotten and picked upon. It did not occur to him that his fellow friends and Marauders had always stood with him. It did not occur, to him that he had been much worse off in Hogwarts, had he not been part of the Marauders.

So he turned to the one person, who will give him the prestige and power that he had always sought.

He met a man, who was so feared, his name was not willingly uttered by the magical population. A man, who no longer even looks human, such was the depravity that the man had went for power. His soul corrupted, his heart cold, and his hands, full of the blood of innocents, the Dark Lord. Cruel, cold and calculating, he had no intention of letting anyone share his power, and his glory. But to him, foul, little backstabber, Peter, was a means to an end and he would be rewarded if he succeeds at his task.

And so, in the dark of night, a deal was struck, between a Rat and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Amidst the cries of mercy from an innocent, a flash of green was briefly seen. Silence, then a short squeak of pain. A mark was given. The first information was exchanged. A series of cracks could be heard. Then nothing, but for the cold, unmarked body of an innocent could be seen. And the calling card in the sky, a serpent and a skull.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Hello guys! Sorry for updating late. Was relatively busy with school and work and whatnot. However I spend quite some time, writing out the plot and such, along with the Magical System (which will be revealed bit by bit, via history in Harry's childhood, or otherwise). Same as always, thanks to everyone whom had a part to play, I don't own Harry Potter et cetera.

**A/N 2: **So, anyway, I would let to establish some finer points of the Magic system in this story. A wizard can use swords to deflect spells, so long as it contains a core as it's' centrepiece. (Think of it as a metal wand) This method of fighting is normally used by Nobles. Chivalry and all. Hence, in this particular AU, the magical developed a sword that is capable of behaving like a wand. (The history of this, will be re-iterated in later chapters). So that is a minor heads-up.

**A/N 3:** Auras. Average wizards can produce Auras when they experience extreme emotions. In which case, their magic, is out of control, hence the auras. The strength of it depends on the magical strength of a person. However, stronger Wizards, in this AU, will produce auras when fighting, as it likely that due to their magical strength, a less than extreme emotion will trigger the auras.

**A/N 4:** This chapter was harder to write, since the Potter family will definitely need help in escaping England, so I needed to think of something that would seem realistic. Anyway, i apologise for the short length of it... Right, I will stop babbling now, and just let you guys enjoy the story.

* * *

**Aid and Flight.**

**Potter Manor, 28****th**** August 1977, 8.00 a.m.**

Harry woke up and found himself lying in a crib, surrounded by soft toys, a rat, dog, wolf and stag. He took in the sights of his nursery, bright yellow walls, covered by imprints of flowers, some couches, and drawers.

In his opinion, it was magnificent.

The past few weeks hellish to him, an adult mind trapped within a baby's body. Harry mostly spent his time sleeping over the past few weeks, since his body is that of a baby's. Since he cannot communicate easily, he was restricted to gesturing for food or when he have need of a diaper change. Both of which, make him utterly embarrassed.

However when Harry was awake, he spent his time practicing Occlumency and getting more in tune with his magical core. He wanted to make sure that Magic will flow infinitely easier throughout him. He had picked up the concept of getting more in tune his magical core in his previous life.

Every Magical Being has a Core. This core acts in the same way as the heart does. For a magical being to survive, the magic must be flowing within the veins of the person. It was the reason why some people can die of magical exhaustion. Very simply put, if a Magical used up every single drop of Magical Energy within them, their Magical Core, would then try to re-supply the body with the magical essence by sacrificing itself.

This would either result in them being no better than a Squib if they are lucky, or will cause them to die if their body was extremely attuned to their Magical Cores, as are most cases.

However, if one is more attuned to their magical cores, theoretically they can perform feats of magic easier. With or without a focus for their magic.

That is why, Harry spent most of his time mediating and allowing his Magical Core to flow freely within him.

Over the next few days, Harry spent most of his time making things difficult for Peter under the guise of accidental magic, up to the point where Peter proclaimed him a Devil's spawn, leading to Lily threatening to turn Peter into a rat forcefully, and sent cats after him.

And for both Sirius and James to proclaim that the next generation of Marauders has arrived.

* * *

Charlus Potter was trying his best to seek aid in the event that Voldemort caught up to the Potter family before they could leave for distant shores.

Thus, Charlus Potter, stood at the graveyard of one of the many families that Voldemort and his Death Eaters have murdered. Waiting.

"Come to pay your respect? Charlus?" a raspy voice said. A figure, with white hair, a rapier strapped to his side, and face that looks aged beyond his time strode up beside him.

"I need your help, Baron Chase. My family is going try to escape abroad. I need aid," pleaded Charlus.

"Why should I?" Perseus Chase, with a nonchalant flick of his hand conjured a batch of flowers, bent down and laid them down in front of a grave. Tracing the markings, pain was evident in Perseus' eyes.

"Because you care! Perseus! You are not like Voldemort and his ilk. You and I, even if we stand on opposite ends of the fences, owe our allegiance to our families. Now, I ask of you to help mine. As I helped yours so long ago."

"You would collect on our debt then? At my most vulnerable moment?" Perseus raised his eyebrows, daring Charlus to contradict him. "No matter. You have my aid. If nothing, I would have done it for vengeance. But I have one condition."

"Name it."

"Have your eldest grandson take my family name. I am the last of my line. And I do not see myself coming out of this war alive. Do me this favour, Charlus, do not let my family name fade into the annals of history."

"It will be done," agreed Charlus.

"Now, to seal the pact. I, Baron Perseus Alexander Chase, offer myself to protect and escort the Potter family, from all harm, within and without, to the best of my ability, on my magic, under the pain of death. So long as Charlus Potter agrees to have his eldest grandson, take my name, and its responsibilities after my passing," Perseus intoned, extending his hand for Charlus to grasp.

"I accept, your oath, in whole." A brief flash of light, signified the completion of the agreement.

* * *

Over the next few the Perseus joined the Potter family in planning a route out of Wizarding England.

In Perseus, Harry found someone who was alike to him. Someone who suffered pain of losing everything. Hence, it Harry tried his best to perk Perseus up, as best as a baby could. Harry already knew that he have to take the family name of Perseus, based on heated discussions at the dinner table, but to him, there was no greater honour, for this was a man still coping, when everything was taken from him.

Perseus, on his part found Harry to be like a grandson, he could already feel that Harry would become immensely powerful, yet tempered with restrain. He cherished the time he could spend with Harry.

They eventually decided that, Lily's parents will leave via the Muggle way, while they will depart by port-keys at the international port-key outpost in the Ministry of Magic, under the guise that they are heading overseas for vacation. The amount of Aurors in the ministry would have made it a daunting prospect for anyone to attack them. Hence, they readied for themselves. For the flight of their lives.

However, little did they know that due to, Peter, both Dumbledore and Voldemort has caught wind of their plans, and have resolved to stop them from leaving.

Hence, on the September the 1st, while many parents would have been sending their children off at King's Cross, a party of eight and a baby, could be seen walking quickly towards the international port-key station within the Ministry.

They never expected to be waylaid at the Atrium, by none other than Dumbledore and Voldemort themselves.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Hello again. So yeah, I fell sick and stuff, so i spent more time sloughing out this chapter and bits of the next. IMPORTANT: I decide to omit the "For Her" portion from my story title, since it makes Harry a utterly selfish bastard. And makes the story revolves even more around the relationship between Daphne and Harry, which leaves me less things to work with. However, Daphne will still remain as the main catalyst as to why Harry accepted going into the past. But its no longer only about her. Since Harry got a family and all again. I won't risk spoiling the story at this stage, so that's all I am going to establish as a fact as of now!

**A/N 2:** So much WORDS. Longest chapter for me as an amateur writer! Hopefully this chapter clears up some of the confusion behind Perseus.

**A/N 3: **Favourite or Follow if it fits your tastes! Review if you wish to make a point or whatsoever. But remember that I'm still new at this and prone to making some mistakes. Though I try my best to minimise them! So yes, thanks to various people who have contributed to this story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Any names I have inevitably taken, their character's attitudes are not representative of real-life characters!

* * *

**Confrontations**

**Ministry Atrium, September 1****st**** 1977, 9.00 am.**

It was a red dawn, the sun had risen a while ago. The corridors Ministry of Magic were quiet at this time of the day. Parents were either sending their children off to Hogwarts, and hence taken the day off, or Ministry workers were in their offices, doing their job. It seemed like a normal, average day. Peaceful and tranquil.

It was anything but.

Aurors stalk the hallways, hands never straying far from their wands holsters, tension evident in their bodies. Even now, the Aurors, draped in red robes, can be seen moving in teams, to and fro from Department of Magical Law Enforcement, faced fixed in a grim expression, responding to calls of distress from the magical population of Britain.

Hit Wizards, dressed in morbid black, moving about in twos, can be seen grasping at bounty papers before moving off to the apparition points and then vanishing in a "Pop". Not all of them will return.

If one was lucky, one can catch sight of the Unspeakables. Highly trained witches and wizards, whom specialised in dealing with the unknown and unknowable. Masked in balaclava, these witches and wizards are the crème de la crop. Several can be seen scattered across the floors of the Ministry, moving with a purpose to locations unknown, drawn from their research, and drafted into combat.

For you see. The Ministry was at war. And it was not going well.

Every day, the number of dead Aurors that was portkeyed into the administration numbered only in the tens. But more than enough, over a long period, that the number of Aurors were starting to drop. More than enough, that trainees no older than the age of twenty were send out into the fields, to replace the veterans whom were dwindling by the day.

Even the Wizegamot, the Parliament body of magical Britain were dwindling. Higher and Lower Houses whom had Lords, Ladies, Heirs and Scions, who were murdered, eventually faded away. The names of Grace, Caritias and Stark had already faded with no one else to carry their names. Their hereditary seats will be empty forever more, seen nothing but as a reminder of their contribution, and eventual extermination.

Names of many others were dying out. The Blacks, Bones, Greengrasses, and Chases, amongst others, all were on their last legs.

This fear of their names dying out, led to wide-spread arranged marriages throughout the most traditional of pure-bloods within the Wizegamot.

The economy of magical Britain is dying. Many people were too afraid to come out of their houses. Muggle-born shops were targeted and destroyed, people were slaughtered in broad daylight.

Yet still, Death Eaters' roamed free. Destroying. Pillaging. Slaughtering.

Order is undone and the land is spiralling towards chaos.

And thus, the Ministry, whom had so advocated basic rights for Wizarding Kind, now reserved the rights to everything and anything.

Funds were seized in the name of the war, people were arrested in name of security. Trials were denied, in the name of the time being put to "better use".

This was a time of great strife and grief in magical Britain, and many people whom had the ability to move out of Britain, had done so.

However, suffice to say, any innocents whom failed to escape, now live in fear of both the Ministry, and the Death Eaters'.

And so, it was at 10.00 am in the morning, within the high-celling, and exquisitely decorated Ministry atrium, with a flash of several green flames, seven figures strode out of one of the numerous fire-places, and walked with a purpose towards the International Port-Key station.

* * *

**Ministry Atrium, September 1****st**** 1977, 10.00 am.**

Harry was quite worried. He could do nothing to help his family in this point in time, his body was not fit for intensive magical casting, being young and all. Any casting that can be done, could only be done at a minor level, and these were mere nuisances, similar to that of an average magical baby's "Accidental Magic".

So needless to say, Harry was literally bound in his form.

The mood of the Potter's family, along with their single escort was the same. Worried. There was no attempt to lighten the mood here by either Sirius, James or Charlus, the normally upbeat members of the group. Faces set in a grim expression, and casting glances at every shadow, they were wary, and for a good cause for they had two groups of enemies to watch out for, one deadlier than the other.

Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix, would most likely attempt to delay and if possible stop them from reaching the Portkey station entirely. But they are still law-abiding members of the law, and with two Lords, Potter and Chase, and one soon-to-be Lord, Black, not many can stand before them justly.

However any delay will prove costly, for any waste of time, increases the chance of Voldemort catching wind of their flight, and with the whole Potter family out of the extensive wards of Potter Manor, one where even Voldemort would have a hard and long-time taking down, the Dark Lord would not give up the chance to strike at them lightly.

The party strode boldly through the centre of the Atrium, being eyed suspiciously along the way, by Aurors on the grounds and levels above them, whom hands instinctively went to their wand holsters, ready for any trouble.

They made it past the fountain, which depicted a centaur, a house-elf and a wizard, past the several check-points set up by Aurors. A few more steps before they made it to the Portkey-Station. A few more steps before freedom, and safety, for a couple of more years.

But, expectedly, they were waylaid by several Order members, along with Dumbledore himself.

"Charlus, stop! Wait! I implore you to see reason!" begged Dumbledore, as he try to draw the gaze of Charlus onto his own.

"Not this time Albus. This time, family comes first." Charlus barely flicked a glance towards Dumbledore before walking past him.

"Lily! What of your blood family?" Dumbledore went to the next person in line.

"They are already aboard. There is nothing keeping me here." Lily's eyes, normally filled with concern, now lined with steel.

"Dorea! Sirius! What of the house of Black? What of Andromeda and Ted? You are just going to leave them behind?" cried Dumbledore, in a last attempt to plead the party to stay.

"I tried to find them, Albus, but it seems like they are already safely hidden away behind a Fidelius," Dorea replied sharply. "Now it would please me for you to move out of our way, and stop delaying us!"

Dumbledore turned truly sad at this statement.

"I am afraid, I cannot do that Dorea. The Wizegamot has decreed martial law. You are all required to return to your abodes at once. On the pain of imprisonment. You have forced my hand."

"Albus, we both know that Lords have certain leeway with the laws of the Wizegamot! You cannot hope to tie us down, with a piece of paper!" Charlus' tone was calm, but had turned cold and frigid. Dumbledore had gone too far!

"Charlus, I am sorry my old friend. But I have to point out that you need at least another Lord to endorse you for you to do that. A Lord that has already taken up his name and thus his rights. It is best if you come quietly so that we may avoid…"

"Will the word from the Higher House of Chase do then? Albus?" the smooth baritone of Perseus interrupted Dumbledore. "Albus, you seem to have forgotten that I am moving with Lord Potter's party, towards the same destination if I might add. Surely you must not think that the Potters' do not have my endorsement? Isn't that right James?"

"Yes. Of course. Is the words of both Lords of a Higher House, barring our friend Sirius, who may as well have been Lord Black, not enough for you Albus?" James inserted. With that, the members of Potters' party slowly moved into a semi-circle, facing outwards, preventing anyone from having a clear shot at their backs, and keeping a general look-out.

At this, Dumbledore's face fell ashen. You see Lord Perseus Chase was an enigma. Perseus was known to be a pure-blood traditionalist, but he was not overly aggressive unless provoked. However, Dumbledore was unclear as to whether Perseus was on his own side, or on Voldemort's. However his alignment, Perseus was known to be a particularly vicious dueller. He had fought the lieutenant of Grindelwald back in the first Great Wizarding War. Cutting a heroic figure with his signature sword and wand, he was a source of motivation for allied troops. His own sword and wand's play, far excel that of trained specialists. His fame with it, was forged in blood and fire. Numerous Lords, such as Nott, Malfoy had challenged him to a full out Pure-Blood duel, with the intention to remove the new up-start Pure-Blood. Perseus, like his namesake in the Greek legend, had stood against all odds, and won against them all. Now, made a Baron in face of his contribution, he was almost a legend in the Wizegamot, for both his silvered-tongue, and his achievement in the field of violence. Only in face of his new family name, had prevented him from earning a Noble Rank higher than Baron.

But it all came at a price. Perseus was the last of his name. He once had a family. But they were slaughtered. Every single one. Dumbledore had been there at the Chases' mass funeral, as was his duty as Chief Warlock to offer support to the now lone Lord. He watched as Perseus traced his wife's name on the tombstone, Maria, over and over. His cries of despair seem to rend the air, his grief palpable. A broken man. An empty shell.

This man in front of him, once blessed with good looks, clear sky-blue eyes, glossy black hair, peppered with a hint grey, now stood before Dumbledore once more.

And he had changed. Aged beyond his years, clear eyes, now dulled with grief, misery, determination and a hint of hatred. Hair that once was black, now turned nearly white.

He looked old. Fragile.

Yet. His tremendous presence is still there. The nearly indistinguishable promise of imminent violence and danger wrapped around him like a cloak.

"So Albus? Will you let us pass?" the smooth tone of Perseus, once again interrupted Dumbledore, but this time from his internal monologue.

"You know as I do, that the Lords can do as they wish. I only wish to ensure that certain procedures are followed." Dumbledore had no choice but to concede this battle. It seems that there is little to no way of the Potter remaining in Britain. He mentally made a note to withdraw Peter's attempt to steal away Harry, it would not do for the Potters to turn against him, in this climate of chaos. The light had to be united to stand against the Darkness that is Voldemort.

However, Dumbledore could not resist trying to dig a little of why Perseus had decided to stand with the Potters, and so he asked "But, I cannot help my curiosity Perseus. Why are you in the company of the Potters?"

"Well Albus, your question was surprising blunt, unlike your unusual attempts at digging for information", Perseus replied, at this Dumbledore dipped his head, an acknowledgement of the riposte in words. "However, I will entertain, your queries this once. The reason is that, this course of action would benefit my house and my name."

Dumbledore was puzzled at this. How could Perseus throwing his lot with the Potters benefit his name? However, Dumbledore was not known as a genius for nothing. His eyes widened, and this fact did not escape the attention of Perseus.

"I see you got it. I hope you will keep it a secret Albus. It was lovely chatting with you, but we must be going."

But before Dumbledore can reply, a voice, thick and sultry swept out of the gate leading from the Atrium. "Going? Perseus! Old friend, why, where are you going? Sirius and Dorea too! Oh goody, a reunion, the Dark Lord will be delighted!"

"A reunion of the Black family! How… quaint. Tell me Sirius. How is dear old Uncle Orion, and Aunty Walburga?" with that, a beautiful witch can be seen strode out of the gate and towards the party. The witch, with beautiful raven tresses, and shockingly violet eyes along with the high cheekbones of all pure-bloods, was named Bellatrix Lestrange neé Black.

"They are doing fine actually, cousin. Fine enough on their deathbeds. But then, why do you care?" Sirius snarked.

"Of course, I care. They are not blood-traitors, unlike you! Come Aunt Dorea! Don't ignore little Bella!" Bellatrix pouted.

"You are no niece of mine." Dorea replied in a calm and even tone.

"Is blood no longer important then? Tsk. And I hoped to solve our feuds today peacefully! I hope you don't mind, but, I brought some friends along!" sung Bellatrix.

Harry was now truly worried. This Bellatrix was still sane. More clear-headed and hence, infinitely more dangerous.

Out of the darkness, Aurors emerged. But as time goes by, their faces morphed into sinister leers of recognised Death Eaters. Goyle, Warden, Jones, amongst others. And slowly, the signature masks of Death Eaters, a pale white mask for the newer Death Eaters, while the inner circle that was present donned their own specialised masks, typically silver, and lined with gold.

Dumbledore was temporary stunned into inaction. The audacity of the movement by Voldemort was too unexpected. However, even as he was starting to react, Aurors, Hit-Wizards and Unspeakables started to pour in. The Death Eaters' were hopelessly out numbered. But they were still standing rock-still, neither shaking from nerves, nor fear. They only acted like this when they truly believe they were going to win.

The only way, they might even have a chance of winning is if Voldemort himself turns up. Dumbledore doubt that could happen, for Voldemort was not known to show himself at all, at any engagement, preferring to send out his Death Eaters to wreak havoc on the populace. Dumbledore did not know about Peter's betrayal. He did not know that Voldemort intends to finish the brightest of the Light in one fell swoop.

Hence, Dumbledore was proven wrong, when a figure wearing a gold mask slowly strode into the room. Red eyes glinting in the soft magical lights. A hand rose up, and pale fingers slowly moved to detach the mask from his face.

And so, with numerous gasps, the Ministry and the Order, along with the Potter party got their first look at the Dark Lord.

"Well, well. So we meet again, Dumbledore! Well met fellow Wizards and Witches! And the Potters, the Black and Chase! Well, we have quite the number of Pure-Blood Lords gathering here don't we? However, I am afraid, that no one is walking out of here, alive, unless you swear fealty to me. Do so, and I will spare your life. Do so, and I will give you, your dreams. Do so, and you will never want, for anything." Voldemort preached.

"You need only do one simple thing, and you can join me and my order, as rulers, of a world free from tainted blood! As it should be, and as it will be!" an impassioned Voldemort tried to charm the crowds. His own Death Eaters, looked to be swaying from the overwhelming charisma their infallible leader is exhibiting.

"You need only speak a few words. And all of it, can, and shall be yours." Voldemort trailed off.


End file.
